


Behind The Cameras

by CongratulationsBaby



Series: Australia's Prize Catch [1]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CongratulationsBaby/pseuds/CongratulationsBaby
Summary: A/U One-shot: Franky is a contestant on a reality TV show and getting ready for a staged date night with Kim Chang, but it's not Kim she wants. She prefers Bridget, the Production Assistant assigned to her.
Relationships: Franky Doyle/Bridget Westfall
Series: Australia's Prize Catch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832278
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	Behind The Cameras

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> This is my first fanfic in... well approximately 5 years so I'm completely rusty. However, having watched Wentworth for the first time 3 months ago and falling in fan-LOVE with Fridget and thus re-watching the series at least 5 times, I have felt the urge to get creative with this pairing. I'm still getting back in to the swing of creative writing...
> 
> This is an AU one-shot, but if it goes down well then I will expand the universe to cover more moments, interviews etc.
> 
> This isn't beta-read so any mistakes are mine, I'm sorry - also disclaimer: Wentworth does not belong to me, nor do any of its characters.

**Behind the Cameras**

“You wanna know something, Gidge?”

“Hmmm?” Bridget hummed in acknowledgement, her eyes still drawn to the clipboard in front of her as she scribbled notes.

“I don’t even wanna go on this fucking one-on-one date,” Franky said bluntly. She was sat on a worn wooden chair in front of a mirror in the hair and make-up room as she pulled a set of straighteners through her hair. Despite the producers pleading with her to wear a gorgeous dress, Franky had chosen dark trousers, a sheer blouse and a charcoal grey fitted blazer.

Suffice to say, Bridget thought _fuck the dress._

“Well,” Bridget replied smoothly, now looking over at her sulky contestant and giving her a gentle smile, “this _is_ the basic premise of the show, Franky.”

“It’s Kim _fucking_ Chang, Gidge, she’s been on me like a bad rash since day one in the mansion. What will we even talk about? She doesn’t _get_ me. She just wants to fuck me.”

“She won the last challenge, so she got to pick who she wanted on the date,” Bridget refused to dwell on the thought of fucking Franky, that way led to madness. She certainly refused to dwell on the thought of anyone _else_ fucking Franky, that way led to a tight knot in her stomach and a whole host of emotions that she refused to name.

Franky, having finished her hair, turned to Bridget now, her eyes pleading.

“But I don’t wanna spend the evening with her,” her tongue ran along her teeth as she smiled wolfishly, “I’d rather be talking to you.”

“You’d pass up time out of the mansion, a free three-course meal, and an incredible view of the ocean to stay home and listen to me rant about Vera’s cost-cutting exercises?”

“Yup.”

Bridget shook her head with an amused smile. The tattooed brunette often used these moments to get under her skin. Perhaps that was why Bridget pushed for her as a contestant (much to her boss Vera’s dismay). When she first saw Franky enter the Hot Seat all those months ago to state her case (“I wanna win to pay for my tuition. I wanna be a shit-hot lawyer one day”), Bridget knew she was a goner. Since then, she’d unashamedly taken Franky under her wing, offering her tips and advice to help her sway the public and the other contestants. She wanted to see her underdog get through each round, to see her get everything she wanted in life.

Vera had, on several occasions, sternly advised Bridget to keep her distance – after all, contestants needed to focus on wooing other contestants, _not_ involving themselves with production assistants on the other side of the cameras. That line, Vera had told her, should _never_ be crossed.

So far, Bridget had stuck to her side of the line, adamant not to give in to Franky’s flirtations. If sometimes she toed very close to the edge, well, who could blame her…

“Gidge?”

Franky had given her the nickname on her first day at the mansion, as the older woman found her wandering lost around the upper floor and guided her with warm reassurance to the living area filled with other contestants. Bridget liked the nickname, so she didn’t fight it.

Bridget sighed.

“You need to win this show, Franky,” she said, moving as close as she dared and perching herself on the table where the straighteners and make-up sat. Close enough to feel Franky’s warmth, but just far enough away to not be touching, “you need to get the prize money and you need to be the shit-hot lawyer you hope to be.”

“I know,” Franky huffed, annoyed, “I’m just sick of pretending. I hate having to smile at the cameras and stir drama and fucking pretend that I care enough about these people to save my skin from Elimination.”

“Just four more weeks and you’ll be free of them, okay?” Bridget tried to reassure the young woman but felt her heart sink at the thought of never seeing Franky again when the show was over.

“Plus,” she added airily, “maybe by the end you’ll find love.”

Franky raised her eyebrow, intrigued, and Bridget became flustered as she realised how her statement could be construed.

“I mean,” she amended, “one of the contestants might really catch your eye. You’re one of the contestants put forward for the group kayaking next week, maybe you’ll bond with one of the girls there.”

Franky exhaled loudly, frowning as she leaned forward in her chair. She was a hairbreadth away from touching Bridget, and the air around them changed.

“Well, actually now that you mention it, Gidge,” Franky’s voice dropped to a murmur, “there _is_ someone that I want.”

“Oh yeah?” Bridget let out a shaky breath, her hands clutching the clipboard desperately in attempt to stop from reaching over and entwining in Franky’s hair.

“Yup,” the tattooed brunette continued, and though she was known in the mansion as the biggest flirt going, there was no trace of humour on her face now, “you see, there’s this great woman here. She’s absolutely stunning, I’m talking utterly perfect… but she’s so much more than hot.”

“Franky,” Bridget intoned softly, not quite encouraging her but not quite warning her off either.

“Yeah, you see, she’s also incredibly kind,” Franky continued, her hand now reaching out to brush against Bridget’s knee, “she’s supportive, she treats me with so much respect and I’ve _never_ had anyone like that in my life before.”

“Well she certainly sounds like a keeper,” Bridget replied evenly, “maybe you can discuss her more in your next recorded Hot Seat interview.”

“Nuh,” Franky placed both of her hands out on Bridget’s legs, moving them slowly up her thighs, “she’s too good for this show, for the public to ruin it.”

“Franky, you need to-“

Franky suddenly pushed herself from her chair, moving between Bridget’s legs and sliding her hands from her thighs to the older woman’s waist. She pulled her in and Bridget instinctively closed her eyes, moaning as their lips crashed together for the first time in a flurry of passion. Her hands dropped the clipboard to the floor and moved to Franky’s hair, fingers entwining and pulling her face closer, breathing the young woman in as their lips continued to connect. It was the sweetest two minutes of her life, the push and pull, the little exhales in between kisses as they caught their breath, the way Franky’s hands kneaded her waist, then her back, then her hips, pulling her in flush against her. Bridget felt like her body was on fire, set alight by Franky’s kisses and touch.

Finally, Franky drew away, her forehead resting against Bridget’s as she licked her lips. Her smile was soft, uncertain. Nothing like the confident Franky of the mansion.

“Need to what, Gidge?” she whispered, “what do I need to do?”

“Uhhh,” Bridget was still trying to catch up, the kiss having erased all thoughts and warnings from Vera, “you need to… to focus…”

“I don’t wanna date those women. I want _you._ ”

“If Vera finds out, Franky, she’ll place me with another contestant, and you’ll be accused of sleeping with the crew. This could ruin your chance at winning the big prize-”

“-I don’t care,” Franky raised her voice over Bridget’s concerns, her hands cupping Bridget’s cheeks firmly but tenderly, smiling so surely at her, “they can do whatever the fuck they want, I’ll just quit. I’ll state it live on fucking air that I want to be with you if I have to, and then I’ll quit.”

“Oh, baby,” Bridget sighed, closing her eyes, “I don’t doubt that you would, but you need to think about the practicalities.”

“Nuh,” Franky suddenly pulled back, “no way. I’m _not_ pretending anymore. It kills me to sit there on a fucking date, knowing that the only woman I want sitting across from me is either back here waiting or on the other side of the camera fucking _watching_ it.”

“I’m trying to do what’s best for you!” Bridget snapped suddenly.

“Then fucking _love_ me!”

Bridget reeled back at Franky’s words, but Franky herself looked more shocked of the two. Both stared at each other in silence, the only sounds being their chaotic breathing as they waited for the other to break the tension.

“Franky?” Bridget whispered uncertainly, trying to gauge an emotion, _anything,_ in the younger woman’s eyes.

“I just…“ Franky broke the gaze as tears started to form in her eyes, “I love you, Gidge. I just hoped…”

Franky turned toward the mirror and swiped at her eyes, trying to stem the damage to her mascara. Bridget sat there, still stunned by the turn of conversation. Had they really just been kissing a few minutes ago? And now this? Suddenly there was an elephant in the room.

Or had it always been there, waiting to be acknowledged out loud?

Bridget opened her mouth to respond when suddenly the door to the room opened with a _bang_. Vera strode in, looking immaculate and not in the mood for small talk.

“Doyle, are you ready?” she fussed with the bun on the back of her head before clearing her throat, “your ride is here to take you and Chang to the location.”

“Ready,” Franky confirmed, casting one last longing glance at Bridget before her eyes hardened, “we’re done here.”

As she moved toward the door, Vera glanced over her outfit with disdain. She never did agree with Bridget’s push for Franky, but the tattooed brunette had certainly won the audience over, much to Vera’s dismay.

“I’m disappointed you didn’t go with the dress, Doyle.”

Franky didn’t respond, her hand on the doorknob.

“I’m not.”

Bridget’s voice cut across the room and startled Franky away from the door. The younger woman turned around, looking over to Bridget who had now moved away from the desk and picked up her clipboard. Bridget smoothed down her jacket unconsciously, but her eyes met Franky’s as she implored her to understand.

_I’m not done here._

_I love you too._

_But we can’t._

_Not here._

_Not yet._

“Like me in a suit, do ya Gidge?” in that moment, Franky understood perfectly. She winked at the older woman and licked her lips, “I always knew you were a dirty bird.”

Bridget smiled, a beautiful smile that reached her eyes, and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively in response.

“Enjoy your date, Franky.”

_Think about me._

“I will now.”

_Because I’ll be thinking about you._

Bridget couldn’t wait to record Franky’s post-date Hot Seat interview.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comment, enjoy!
> 
> I might continue this into a larger series, more moments from the reality TV show including Franky's confession to the cameras (if she gets as far as the finale... who knows!). Can also include other pairings if anyone wants them, such as Ballie. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think :)


End file.
